Why Teach Sunday School?

A couple of years ago, I decided to teach Sunday school. I could
kill two birds with one stone and spend quality time with the kids on
the weekend while exerting Spiritual Mommy’s much-needed moral
authority. Maybe I could even reverse some of the brain injury from
all that TV.

Given my schedule during the week, my husband and most of my
friends thought I was downright crazy for taking on another weekend
responsibility. “Suz, just what you need, another thing to add to
your schedule. Haven’t you ever heard of the word ‘no’?”

Actually, since I became a mother, ‘no’ has almost evaporated
from my vocabulary. I reserve it for when I really need it—like when
I’m asked to make cupcakes for the bake sale, organize the parent
phone tree, or volunteer to be the lunch monitor during lunch
bunch. After all, I can’t do everything, right? But when it comes to the
spiritual development of my children, Devoted Mommy reminds me
that, unlike baking cookies or being a lunch monitor, I really can’t
delegate that one very easily.

To my pleasant surprise, Sunday school became my favorite hour
of the week. I wear casual clothes and comfortable shoes, sing silly
songs, play duck-duck-goose, and sit on the floor with the children
while teaching them that God is your friend, even when you can’t
see Him.

I remember my own Sunday school days vividly like they were yesterday.
I’ll never forget that poster in my classroom of Jesus knocking
on the door to your heart. Of course there’s no door handle because
the door can be opened only from the inside. It was during that
Sunday school class that I asked Jesus to come into my heart.
Some people say that young children can’t understand spiritual things, but
I beg to differ. Life has become much too complicated. Sometimes I
want to go back to the simple faith of my childhood, but I can’t. So I
do the next best thing. I teach Sunday School.

What’s your Sunday School experience?  

**excerpt from Chasing Superwoman, pp. 23-24

Does TV Feed Your Children Swear Words?

My husband, Doug, and then seven-year-old Nick were watching The Bad News Bears. I was appalled. The language was filthy. These snotty-nosed kids and their recalcitrant coach had no respect for authority or each other, and Nick would soon be talking like a potty mouth if we continued to let this trash into our living room. Suddenly, Devoted Mommy transformed into Fundamentalist Mommy.

“I don’t want to hear that language in our house ever again, and I want that filthy show turned off.” Doug and Nick just looked at me.

I continued, “TV is straight from the pit of hell and I can’t sit by and watch you fill your brain with this garbage.”

Doug may be incorrigible, but I still have to exercise some moral authority over my children. I learned that from my own mother. We had knock-down, dragout fights over Three’s Company and Charlie’s Angels. I would sneak downstairs and watch these shows with my older sisters over my mother’s deep disapproval. (Which was worse, Jack and Chrissy living in sin, or Farrah Fawcett showing her cleavage? I never got an answer, I just knew they were both bad.)

What kind of mother would I be if I let The Bad News Bears ruin Nick’s innocence and lead him down a path of destruction?

So later that night, after I put the girls to bed, I told Nick that we needed to talk. We sat in his bed before prayers, as we do every night, and I explained to him that some things on TV are wrong, and the Bad News Bears really shouldn’t say bad words.

“Did you hear bad words in the movie today?”

Nick responded, “I’m not sure. I know stupid is a bad word.”

Nick is a smart kid, so he saw this as an opportunity to ask me, point-blank, what the other bad words were that had caused me so much concern. Now I was stuck. Fundamentalist Mommy was going to have to feed her own son swear words. So we talked about how “hell” is a bad word, and why you wouldn’t want to tell someone to “go to hell,” because that’s where Satan lives.

Nick asked, “Is it still okay to say ‘for heaven’s sake’?”

“Yes,” I said. “That’s still okay.”

I was thankful he still had some innocence left. And I didn’t have the heart to tell him the other bad words in the show. We’ll save that for another day.

How do you deal with the impact of TV on your children?  Is TV a necessary evil, or just plain evil? Or am I overreacting?

**excerpt from Chasing Superwoman, pp. 21-23

Why I Changed My Name

Why did I change the name of my blog?  Not to mention I’ve changed my Twitter name from @LawyerMommy to @SusanDiMickele.  Is Lawyer Mommy dead?  Done?  Looking for a new identity?

It’s a good question.  And some of you have asked. 

As you may know, I’m pretty new in this writing business.  I’m a first-time author, and I’ve been blogging for less than two years.  So I try to pay attention to the experts in the business, like my agent Rachelle Gardner and social media guru Kristen Lamb, who advise us authors to use our published NAME when we write.  (For example, check out Kristen’s post this week on Jane Friedman’s blog.)

But just because I’m told to do something doesn’t mean I’m going to do it.  So I’ve thought about this “branding issue” for myself and I’ve concluded that it makes sense to use my full name as a writer for two main reasons:  1)  My name isn’t going to change; and 2) My name is who I am.

My Name Isn’t Going to Change

I’ve been married for almost 20 years.  I took my husband’s name shortly before law school and never looked back.  A couple of years ago, I thought about running for political office and the powers that be told me my Maiden name, Moore, would be more “ballot friendly.”  My husband agreed (plus, being a private person, he didn’t want his name smeared in a campaign).

“Suz, you really should have kept your maiden name.”

Gee honey, it’s a little late for that, don’t you think!

The fact of the matter is, I’m not changing my name.  I’m Susan DiMickele (pronounced “De-Michael”).  Period.

It sounds terribly simple, but it’s true.  Lots of things in life change – our careers, relationships, goals – but our names generally stick with us.

Plus, I’m terribly indecisive.  Case in point.  In less than two years, I’ve changed the name of my blog two times.  (Sorry, I’m not a branding genius. Remember I said I was new at this?)

My Name Is Who I Am

My name is no secret.  I’m easy to find.  I have a public profile as a lawyer and a public profile as an author.  Same name.  Same person.  (Not to mention I’ve already published Chasing Superwoman under Susan DiMickele.) 

If I was really clever, I would have published under my Maiden name (or under a trendy pen name), but I’m not that smart.  I tend to let it all hang out there.  Like it or not.  It’s me.  My name is who I am.

And I thank God some things in life don’t change!

Have you ever wrestled with the use of your name for a creative or artistic endeavor?

Are You Ready For A One-Star Review?

It’s no fun getting a one-star review on Amazon.  What’s worse?  Having your 10-year-old son read it in front of you.

When Nick looked up, he was fighting the tears.  Trying to stay strong.  Trying to act like it didn’t matter.

Then he gave his own critique.

“You know, Mom, some of this is probably true.  But, you know what really upsets me?  She didn’t criticize your book.  She criticized you.  And she doesn’t even know you.”

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